Black England
by pelimphanea
Summary: In which the Black Country of England reaches such a degree of notoriety that a personification of the region was in order. OC!Black England of the Victorian Age. 1840s– Alfred visits Arthur. The story's been developing on it's own at this point...
1. Chapter 1

_You know, everywhere lately, I've been detecting funny mentions of the place which Elihu Burritt described as, "black by day and red by night". And by that, I just mean the Black Country of the Victorian era. References to it as "Black England" brought to mind Hatsuharu from Fruits Basket soo I thought I'd write a bizarre double personality thing, but it's just much more fun to have separate people… so there can be conflict and all that. So that's how this half-arsed OC!Black England story came about! So go on and read it and review please! I'd like to say you won't be wasting your time, but I'm not sure about that… but I'm not quite sure of the opposite either if that's any consolation! My beta-reader is on a secret mission elsewhere (you know who you are, you Russian, you :D), but I proofread this with all of my might! -end of long a/n-_

_**Good ol' Disclaimer: I'm just going to be brutally honest here– I don't own Hetalia, I didn't think it up, or draw it, or anything (shock!). Same goes for the Old Curiosity Shop. And now that I've said so, I do hope I shan't be sued. **_

**_Warning: There's likely to be some slight historical incorrectness. Fail Black Country dialect. Fail fail fail.  
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__"Advancing more and more into the shadow of this mournful place, its dark depressing influence stole upon their spirits, and filled them with a dismal gloom. On every side, and as far as the eye could see into the heavy distance, tall chimneys, crowding on each other and presenting that endless repetition of the same dull, ugly form, which is the horror of oppressive dreams, poured out their plague of smoke, obscured the light, and made foul the melancholy air." - Charles Dickens, The Old Curiosity Shop _

It was December 30th, 1845, and only just yesterday had Texas been admitted as the 28th U.S. state. Alfred thought it a swell way to brighten up those dreary holiday-less days following Christmas morning, though there was the occasional shock to be expected.

"Oh, god, no! Not today!! Oh my god!" Alfred practically screamed upon opening his eyes that morning. He rubbed them vigorously with the back of his wrists, but his attempts to see properly again were of no use at all. He stumbled down the hallway to the bathroom, tripping and mumbling absurdities all the way. The wood floors were cold against his bare feet and the air from the open bathroom window hit him like a sheet of ice. He shivered as he faced himself in the small mirror above the sink, a shaky ensemble of indistinguishable shapes, like blots of watercolor paint, were all that could be discerned in the situation.

"Nn… Alfred, what are you yelling about?" Came a tired voice accompanied by the sound of socked feet padding along the floor towards him.

"Crap! First I figure out I'm going blind and now I'm hallucinating!? I'm turning into an old man like Arthur! Noooo! Why does it have to happen over night!?"

"Alfred, it's me…"

"Agggghhhhh!"

"Alfred!" Matthew raised his voice uncommonly loud. "It's me! Matthew! Your brother…?"

"Who?"

"Y-You're brother? Matthew… please remember…" And he resolved to believe that Alfred's reasoning for neither recognizing him… nor hearing him at first, for that matter, were due to the fact he had failed to recollect about the admittance of his new state. Certainly nothing along the lines of Matthew himself being easily unnoticed.

"Huh? O-oh. Right, duh. What were you saying again?" Alfred asked in is characteristically negligent tone. Matthew sighed, though, secretly he found it amusing to see Alfred gallivanting through the house in a panic, looking even stupider than usual. Matthew crossed the hallway to Alfred's bedroom and retrieved a pair of round, dorky, wire rimmed glasses that were sadly reminiscent of the pair which rested on the bridge of his own nose. Alfred was vigorously splashing water on his face, upon Matthew's return, apparently reacquainted with his previous dilemma. Matthew tapped him on the shoulder.

"Alfred. Alfred…here." He spoke, gently sliding the glasses into place on Alfred's face once he'd turned around at the mysterious voice calling his name.

"Oh, oh, right." Alfred chided happily. He patted the glasses with remembrance. "I'd almost forgotten you, there, Texas. Well, it's an amazing day today as always, so we'd better be on our way!" And promptly, he clambered down the stairs and out the door in a flourish, somehow having gotten dressed in the flash of an instance between the stairway and the bathroom. Matthew stood in the hallway, looking dumbfounded.

"He doesn't even thank me for helping him remember his glasses! He's such a … a jerk!" He decided, but the only response to his presence was a weak echo of his own words.

"Shhh! Whoever you are, some people are sleeping, you know!" Came a polar bear-like voice from Matthew's bedroom. Matthew crossed his arms and sighed in sheepish frustration. Well… at least _someone _had heard him.

...

Arthur loosened his tie slightly at the sight of the large ship coming into port. The playful, salty breeze ruffled his hair, as if it were teasing him. On second thought, he began to tighten the tie again, but on third thought, he dropped his hands from the tail of fabric altogether because there could be nothing more ridiculous than worrying over the looseness of one's necktie at a time like this. Inconspicuously, he began to preen at his coat, smoothing it, and tugging at the hem in compensation for the loss of fidgeting with the tie. The sky was white, smothered with a sheet of cold clouds, and the wind sent the dark waves of the ocean tumbling elegantly among itself in a bloating and sinking traversal. There were the voices of men yelling orders and shouting opinions whilst they loaded dense wooden crates and barrels upon the deck of another ship. Heavy thunks accompanied their unceremonious deposit and thick prickly rope was tossed about between strong masculine hands in the frigid English morning. It was April 25th, 1846, and amongst the shivering red-faced crowds of fancily clad travelers descending from the large oil stained ship, one tall, blond boy, furiously adjusting his glasses, wore a genuinely cheerful smile that couldn't be compared with, despite his poorly informal attire. Arthur sighed to himself as the distressingly, humiliatingly ill-mannered boy careened straight into him, engulfing him in an awkward and embarrassing embrace.

"Arthur!" The boy shouted affectionately, clutching the fabric at the sides of Arthur's suit. It was now evident that the 35 minutes he spent, smoothing every semblance of his already politely ironed garments out was indisputably wasted. He certainly hadn't been nervous in his restless fidgeting and shuffling of his feet! He... wanted to look every bit as nice as he could look! Certainly not by cause of Alfred's arrival, but for propriety's sake as was the rightful and suitable rationale for most things a respectable person did anyway, of course. Upon taking notice of the way Alfred himself was dressed, Arthur couldn't help but feel slightly miffed at his obvious indifference to said morning ritual which undoubtedly gave away to the fact that he had no intentions at all of attempting to impress any person with his appearance. Did he possess no acknowledgment of common decency?! His insufferable air of nonchalance was making Arthur in contrast, feel uncomfortably over dressed and well, stuffy. No, no, what was he prattling on to himself about? Alfred's inconsideration was once again, testament to his severely uncouth nature. This thought soothed Arthur's anxiety and he began to regain his usual air of self-importance mixed with exasperation and cross expression of face. There was a moment of barely concealed sentimental silence before Arthur presumed to hastily peel Alfred off of him.

"G-Get off me, you git!" He snapped, meeting the eyes of one two many a staring passerby. He brushed off a patch of invisible dirt from the shoulder of his jacket, hoping he would soon recede into the background of other men equally pre-engaged with the state of their clothing and hair… something was strangely emasculating about that statement, he thought, looking around.

"But I've missed you!" Alfred replied cheerily to Arthur's previous outburst. Arthur crossed his arms with a dubious expression.

"Why, that makes perfect sense considering you've arrived just a mere four months late." Arthur retorted with a sharp sarcasm. His former colony looked to him apologetically in return, the brightness of his eyes dimming under the scrutiny of Arthur's gaze. Arthur sighed.

"I'm sorry, I really am! I wanted to see you much sooner, but then Mexico and I got into this fight*. See, he thinks he can just start putting Texas on whenever he wants! I mean, we can share a house, we can share a bed (sometimes and I don't mean anything weird by that!), but he doesn't get it that there is such a thing as boundaries! Well, he gets that, I mean, but boundaries that are just completely different from what he thinks they are! Those glasses are mine and even though whenever I take them off, I put them on my nightstand which happens to share a wall with his bedroom, well, it's not part of his bedroom, so yeah. But, I'm sorry, and all I was saying was that I just slightly forgot, getting so involved in that and all. I'm sorry." He finished off in a flurry of contorted drama.

"Well, I could have gone without the life story, but I f-forgive you, I guess, but the lateness is continually unbecoming, Alfred! Come on, then, I'd rather like to escape the dreariness of this port." Arthur deadpanned. Alfred ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Well, of course you'd forgive me! I'm the amazing America!" He laughed brightly. _For god's sake, _Arthur thought with a small smile_, how can someone say that without realizing the stupidity in it? _

"Tell me, what was so blindingly amazing about voting to stop sharing the Oregon Territory with me, hm? What about declaring war against me for keeping you away from that French bastard back in…in…" He trailed off, slightly embarrassed about admitting to his still well alive, though certainly quite faint grudge against Alfred for his insufferable nature during 1812. He had mostly brushed it aside since the ending of the war, but it always returned when his mind drifted to the revolution, and that it did, very often, for almost no reason at all. Every fight that had ever occurred between them seemed to resurface at the thought of the revolution, that time when everything became the worst it could manage to be.

"Oh, Iggy, that was back in January. If you wanted to yell at me for it, you should've called back when that was happening. But anyways, I was thinking that since it's at my house, it should belong to me, shouldn't it? And, well, about 1812, well, and I mean I guess that's what you're talking about–" But Arthur had to digress, because it wasn't a subject he wished to discuss, especially considering it might end up going all the way back to the Chesapeake affair. He had mostly brushed it all aside, though, yes, yes, he had. There were more important beatings to be had at that French bastard, that fucking imbecile, t-that– Well, he couldn't just stand there, mentally swearing at a completely absent person. Er, well, someone he hoped was very absent. There were many people who he hoped and almost believed were very much non-present, such as Ivan, for example, or Francis, that idiot, and they always managed to materialize out of nowhere, those stalkers! But to return to the subject of the Oregon Territory for which he was changing the subject with–

"There are countless things that seem like they _should_ belong to one, when in actuality, it's proper etiquette to share them with others. But what do you know of proper etiquette, really? Or of proper anything, at that?" He grumbled.

"Hey, I know a lot of proper things!" Came the objection.

"Such as what?" Arthur wondered rhetorically as they rambled along a mostly amiable side street. It was of such narrow proportions that they were forced to walk together uncomfortably close as a swarm of teeming former passengers brushed past them quite rudely.

"Hm… you! I know you, for example." Alfred smiled cutely at Arthur's abruptly embarrassed face. "So sweet and proper." Arthur could feel himself suddenly warmer at the sound of sarcastic laughter that adjoined the previous statement, his pale face coloring various shades of reddish pink. It was undoubtedly the cold, biting air, he thought. That sweet, innocent laughter…The close proximity of their bodies even more so… No. No. No. How could such an inappropriate and completely obscene thought as that enter his mind? Not even enter, no, but god forbid, _approach_ the fucking doors to his thoughts! The strange metaphors were causing a headache to come on suddenly.

It was pretty damn lucky they ended up in front of his house at that very second. He was prepared to change the subject once again by mentioning if only a bit abashedly that he'd, well, completely lost his way and had no idea whatsoever as to where they were, but luckily, he was spared this degrading confession upon discovering that whilst being distracted by Alfred's infuriating stupidity and lack of consideration for others, he'd wandered successfully back to his house. Thank god for muscle memory. Alfred was, in contrast, slightly disappointed at being denied the sight of Arthur becoming flustered, though. At the moment, the author of this really-becoming-more-and-more-boring-by-the-second-fanfiction decided things were going to get somewhat interesting even if it killed someone in the process. As a result, Arthur reached into his pocket to retrieve his house key, only to discover that he'd strangely misplaced it and they weren't getting into the house anytime soon, because for some other reason, the spare key that was usually hidden in the secret compartment behind one of the third row bricks on the wall nearest the door, was naturally missing, as well.

"What the bloody hell is happening?!" Arthur shouted, though he kept at his inside voice when he said so. Alfred stepped up closer to him, looking quizzically into the empty space where the reddish brick had previously sat comfortably.

"What? You've lost the key or something?"

"How did you you know that I kept my spare key in here?!"

"Well, you were fishing for something in your pocket at first, so I guessed that you were looking for the same thing here… which is the key, right? I can deduce, too, you know." Alfred said, as Arthur continually scavenged about his other pockets, of which he had one too many, Alfred thought to himself. Suddenly, a thought struck Alfred upside the head (oh my!). "Hey, Arthur, you do have that one other key, you know!" Arthur stared at him dumbfounded with minor annoyance.

"…No. No, I didn't! Did I? Damn it! What's wrong with me?!" Arthur shouted again.

"What are you screaming about now?" Alfred sighed. Arthur collected his wits before replying. He smoothed out his jacket, habitually and replaced the brick in the wall.

"I'm speaking of the key across town, you daft fool! How did you even come to know about that?!"

"Well, only a couple years ago. For some reason, you invited me out to drink an–" Arthur interrupted his story with a quick swish of the hand.

"Oh, sod it! This is the last thing I need to hear about right now. Come along, then… I suppose we'll _have_ to retrieve this god forsaken key!" He griped, pulling Alfred by the arm down the steps and out onto the pavement again.

"But what about your servants? Can't they let you in?" Alfred wondered. Arthur sighed again. What a day this was turning into…

"No, I sent them out to run errands before I went to meet you." Arthur muttered._ So I could be alone with you, you idiot. _"I suppose I left so hastily….I f-forgot to take the keys… one of the servants must've locked the doors after they left." Alfred smirked, before trotting happily ahead of Arthur.

"Somehow I'm pleased to know that you forgot your house key in your excitement to see me!" He laughed, teasingly.

"That wasn't the case at all!" Arthur protested weakly. "I just knew that if I wasn't there awaiting you at the milli-second of your arrival, needless you say, you'd run off looking for me and get yourself lost and killed!"

"Still sounds like you care about me!" Alfred chided. Damn it, he was right! That was the most pathetic excuse he'd had ever mustered up, Arthur mentally slapped himself in the face for trying make bitter, an unfortunately considerate action.

"Well, I don't! I was simply doing it for the sake of politeness! For the sake of being a gentleman and all that. Of course, that would go unnoticed by you, or evidently mistaken for something of a different motive entirely!" Arthur yelled up the street at him, eliciting a few awkward glances again. Alfred stopped, allowing Arthur to catch up to him and they ambled along down the bumpy road in silence for once, Alfred wearing a brilliantly dense smile, and Arthur stealing hateful and embarrassed glimpses of it. It wasn't long before they arrived at one of Arthur's usual haunts, some kind of strange looking pub crammed within a row of terraced houses, none of which had building numbers. This reminded Alfred of a time not very much long ago that he'd dropped something off for Arthur at his countryside house, of which also didn't have a number, among other curiosities pertaining to it, there was one thing that made Alfred burst about in laughter.

"WHAT?" Arthur asked.

"Oh I was just thinking of that countryside house of yours, you know, the one that you _named_." Alfred giggled again. Oh, the sublime moments spent making fun of poor, poor Arthur.

"Sod off." Arthur snapped, reaching for a potted plant that sat atop the thick wooden ledge of a window just above the door. Even on his tiptoes, he still couldn't reach the darned thing! In fact, it seemed that the woman he told to watch for it had set the ceramic pot to a wholly more inconvenient spot, though remaining in the very near vicinity. "Well, fine then! Alfred, could you perhaps reach it?" He hated to ask the favor, but he was finding himself in one of those moods where his pride had amazingly lessened in importance. Alfred reached out his arms as far as they would go, but his fingers barely graced the frame of the window. Now what were they to do? He refused to wait around wasting nice respectable hours on the steps of his villa, especially with the inevitable rainy weather that loomed over the two of them. Alfred continued to jump at it, as Arthur tried to hit on a solution to their dilemma. Well, it wasn't long before he had had quite enough of standing around, unable to think very clearly with Alfred jumping around beside him like that.

"Alfred. Alfred! Alfred, stop jumping up and down, it's a completely futile effort! N-now… I think I could r-reach if you, uh, helped me. P-picked me, u-up, I mean." Arthur stated definitively, with a strong expression of face though he couldn't help the blush that bit at his cheeks.

"Pick you up?" Alfred pondered aloud. "You want me to pick you up?"

"Y-yes, that's what I said, you idiot. Are you deaf?" Arthur said scowling in embarrassment. Alfred chuckled a little and much to Arthur's dismay, he reached out his hand for him to take.

"Okay! If you climb onto my shoulders, you'll be likely to reach it." Alfred said. _How can he say that with a straight face?!_ Arthur thought, incredulously. Okay, the situation obviously needed rethinking, what with this entirely dimwitted plan he'd spoken aloud. Why didn't he more properly consider what he was going to say!? It must've been Alfred's distracting and obnoxious presence, as always. It already made him forget his keys today!

"Uh, n-never mind that! You'll p-probably just drop me if I allowed you to try picking me up!"

"Hey, I wouldn't drop you! I happen to be a hero, you know!"

"Hmph. The absence of politeness and composure were amazingly deluding." Arthur replied. Alfred crossed his arms for a moment.

"What kind of hero has composure and politeness? Heroes are dangerous, on the edge, and taking risks and the like!" Alfred pouted.

"All the more testament to my statement. No one possessing of sanity would allow anyone describing themselves as 'on the edge' to hold them upon their shoulders." Arthur responded with a roll of his eyes to accentuate the point.

"Well, we have to get to the key _some_ way…" Alfred stated the obvious as usual. "You could stop being so stubborn for once. I promise I won't drop you, okay?"

"……Fine. But you'd best live up to that statement." Arthur said. Uneasily, he took Alfred's hand and climbed onto his shoulders. They both blushed furiously as Arthur situated his thighs to straddle Alfred's neck. To balance himself, he put an arm across Alfred's head and assumed to reach his other arm out towards that irksome cluster of potted primroses. He was definitely yanking out every trace of them from his own garden when he returned home, lest he ever be reminded of this mortifying event.

"Well, would you look at that!" Came a feminine voice from behind the window, almost startling Alfred into breaking his promise. The curtains had been pulled aside and a lovely looking woman pushed open the window with only a bit of difficulty. She smiled brightly at Arthur's face, then glanced at Alfred with even brighter expression. "I do believe you're Alfred, am I right?"

"Sure am, Ms." Alfred said smiling back nervously. Arthur tried to inconspicuously remove Alfred's hands from his knees. There wasn't a gap in the woman's smiling despite Arthur's awkward behavior and refusal to meet her eyes. She brushed a strand of white blond hair from her face.

"A-Alfred, may I present you to Ada." Arthur stammered. "Her husband runs the pub that we are… s-standing in front of."

"Nice to meet you!" Alfred called up.

"Likewise!" Ada replied cheerily. Suddenly there was rustling behind her and a muscular man with perfectly disarranged hair and rolled up sleeves whipped the curtains out of the way and looked quizzically down at Arthur.

"Arthur, sir, what _are_ you doing upon the shoulders of a strange man?!" He demanded curiously. And as he began to erupt quite indecently on the subject of buggery laws, Ada gently cajoled him back into the house.

"W-We are not engaged in any r-relationship in the least!" Arthur asserted, flushing bright pink at the humiliating suggestion.

"Really, dear, you ought to get back down stairs." Ada interrupted her husband's episode. "I apologize, he's been so adamantly worked up by even the things which he cares not a tinge for, lately."

"T-there's no need for you to apologize!" Alfred said to Ada, suddenly timid and unusually quiet in tone. His face was so vastly coloring, Arthur could almost feel the heat of the blush on his calves. He sighed. He'd forgotten how randomly homophobic Alfred was. Ada giggled to herself.

"I'm afraid that man across the street from us is, well, particularly disapproving of your… predicament. You'd best fetch the key and be off. " She said lamentably, lifting the primroses to reveal the key. Arthur snatched it up quickly and scrambled to remove himself from Alfred's shoulders, only succeeding in angering the man across the street even further.

"I ought to call the police on you for such vulgar acts in public!" He called, swinging his cane.

"Sod off! We weren't doing anything so indecent as you assumed!" He yelled. "Yelling at his own bloody country! What's the world come to?" He fussed under his breath as Alfred trailed along beside him. In his anger, he hadn't realized until a very long time later that he'd been walking in a very different direction than the one which lead to his own house. Looking about him, he realized he'd never before witnessed a place of such horridly choking scent, or darkness of atmosphere in the light of day. It was so much so, he could barely take in a proper breath or see very much ahead of himself.

"What the heck…? Gee, what's _this_ awful place, Artie?" Alfred asked, bringing up an arm to breathe more commendably into his sleeve. Arthur glared at him for a moment.

"Well, it _is_ a part of me, Alfred, so you'd be wise to stifle the sporadic insults." He admonished, unaware of his own hypocrisy.

"Fine, whatever you say." Alfred chuckled as Arthur stepped further down the grimy street, lined with even more rubbish than what might've been considered normal of his own street.

"V-Visitors?" Someone questioned curiously, from a dark alleyway beside them. Arthur put his hands on his hips as he faced the direction of the voice.

"You might call it that. Perhaps you could please advise us as to where we are?" He asked.

"Why, the Block Coontry, o' coorse!" Came the reply, now decorated by the sound of a smile and a generally unintelligible accent. A frail boy jumped forward, very scarily similar, almost indistinguishable from Arthur, excepting the darker hair and smudges of soot upon his face and tattered clothes. Another of his differing qualities was acting in a way which one could only call "chummy". He immediately greeted Alfred with a shaking of the hand whilst he smirked in great pride. "We doe get visitors too often. 'm chuffed to maik yowm acquaintance, young old. 'ow om ya?" The accent was quite a lot different from Arthur's in an uncouth, yet surprisingly endearing manner.

"Uh, my name's Alfred! Wh–" Suddenly Arthur broke up the conversation, interrupting in quite an uncharacteristically rude manner.

"And who might you be, boy? I don't recall seeing you around anywhere before." Arthur said scrutinizingly. The boy looked at him disdainfully in contrast to his cheery nature towards Alfred.

"Wull'm not surprised, yow rich fooks never nootice the workin' closs 'spite the foct _we_ bin' the ones mokin' yah rich!" He said, crossing his arms with a scowl. "I'm Block England. 've been 'round since the 18th century, yah know. But I guess it it'd 'till now thot I'm gaining notoriety."

"There's no such thing as 'Black England'." Arthur objected. "_I _am England. This is somewhere around Birmingham, I presume?"

"Ar, tho's a fir guess… but try agin." He said thoughtfully, with a smirk, pulling a cigarette from his pocket.

"Last I checked, I didn't wander down here with the intention of engaging in a guessing game." Arthur retorted. "So where are we exactly?"

"The Block Coontry." Came an impassive reply, the bearer of the voice lit a match, which illuminated his face eerily. Arthur crossed his arms, and glanced behind him, then back around again. This guy was taunting him!

"Dudley, then, perhaps?"

"Ah, now y' right aboot that! Dudley's the cap'tal 'o Block England! 'at's where we be."

"Are you meaning to imply that Black England is a country of it's own?"

"Eh, somethin' 'o the soort!" He replied boisterously, scratching the top of his head. "'ere's no way 'm claiming' relation to those Brummies. Not that I got anythin' against' 'em, yah know, but this's a region 'o it's own."

"I certainly think not!" Arthur responded contemptuously.

"Ah, stop your mytherin'! I think 'll be agooin' bock wum. Care to join me for a dishle?"

"A what?" Alfred asked.

"Cup 'o tay, y' yank." The soot faced Arthur reiterated with a laugh.

"Sorry, but we must decline." Arthur answered, rather agitated. "Alfred's visiting and we ought to return to my house so he might unpack." The reply to such was only a bellowing laugh. Black England slid the leather satchel from Alfred's shoulders and swung it over his own, gesturing ahead.

"Yow woon't be maikin' it bock in toym." He shook his free hand at the shadowy clouds. "It's gettin' a tod block over 'n Bill's Mother's."

"Uh, who's… Bill?" Alfred asked. Black England chuckled again. He put an arm around Alfred in the best way he could manage, being slightly shorter and all, and they walked on forward. Arthur, clenching his fists, gave in and decided it best not to make a scene, especially since he couldn't much place what was angering him particularly.

"So, Alfr'd, me boy, whot might yow be adoin' with a barmy ode man like Arther?" He chuckled. "Shouldn't yah be oot 'n aboot, seein' them pr'tty lil' sights o' England?" He looked over his shoulder at Arthur and smirked as if to bring to the fore, the latter statement, which one might've easily mistaken for a double entendre. Arthur crossed his arms and hid his face with his bangs as he trailed along behind the two.

"Uh… well, you see, Arthur lost his house key, so we had to go down to fetch his other one from the window ledge of this weird bar–" _Oh god, he was going to tell him the entire story wasn't he?_ "–But Artie couldn't reach, so he had me pick him up and put him on my shoulders to rea–"

"G-git, don't tell him about that part!" Arthur intervened desperately.

"Why not?" Alfred asked innocently. "I'm just telling the whole story."

"B-Because, I mean, p-people– not everyone ought to hear about that, t-that, that whole… happening, I mean." He finally managed to choke out. He could feel his face as hot as the burning coal that was dusting the air around them and he couldn't help being plundered of his sangfroid along with it. Not that he really had much of such a thing to begin with, but evidently any tinge of it had slapped his face red and run off to god knows where.

"Ahahaha, 's ata blush on y' faice?!" Black England jeered, but there wasn't a moment left to mock anyone of anything else, for they'd arrived at his house just as the rain had begun to drip from the towering swells of clouds. "Do maik yo'selves a' 'ome." He said, shutting the dark wooden door behind him. He kicked off his muddy boots exhibiting a pair of sour looking feet, small splits in his navy colored socks revealing pale white skin. He clambered across the room to the stove and set a pot over the flames with a wholesome sigh. Arthur glanced at him for a moment before resuming to determine where he might be allowed to sit. Alfred had already plopped himself down upon an overly stuffed armchair, and was gazing happily around the room at the various knickknacks and unusual photographs. As the tea wouldn't be properly heated for a few minutes, Black England returned to his guests, seating himself rather indelicately upon the corner of a side table.

"Wood chair anunst the windeh, mate." He gestured at Arthur. Arthur managed a thank you and picked up the chair, moving it towards the center of the room before seating himself tiredly. There was little request to repeat what one had said on Arthur's part, being that the two Englishman were mostly of similar descent in terms of conversational practices, but in contrast, Alfred was sadly rather oblivious to the points of discussion which had been elaborated on. To Arthur's surprise, he remained in silent ascertainment for a whole two and half minutes.

"Alfred? Is something the matter?" Arthur asked, almost concerned.

"Huh? Um, no!" Alfred smiled. "I just haven't any idea what you're talking about." Black England doubled over in laughter, though not a single word spilt from his lips. Arthur facepalmed in turn.

"We've merely been speaking of the weather…" Arthur murmured. Alfred widened his eyes.

"This whole two minutes, all you two could establish was the weather?" Alfred asked incredulously. "Obviously it's raining outside, and I didn't have to ask anybody for a second opinion!" Arthur sighed.

"That wasn't the point of it, you git."

"Well, what is the point? Wasting time?" Alfred exclaimed. "You know what Francis would say?–" Arthur groaned in frustration at the mention of the man. "He'd say something like, 'Time for some tete-á-tete!' But I guess, since this is three people, he'd say something more like, uh, 'Time for some tete-á-tete-á-tete'".

"When in the sodding hell did you ever learn French?" Arthur asked with the most livid expression of face one could imagine.

"Um, one time or another…" Alfred responded shyly. "You know, I mean I don't know too much, but my people sometimes use some of the phrases to be fashionable and all. Matthew, he just goes around saying stuff like that all the time, too, you know. You catch on…" Arthur crosses his arms and sniffed indignantly.

"And why, might I ask, should three complete strangers engage in such intimate discourse?" Arthur whispered sharply in Alfred's direction. Alfred frowned like a whining child.

"What are you going to do? Tell me to 'kindly hold my tongue'?" He replied sardonically. "People don't become friends by talking of the weather!" Arthur positioned himself in his chair with a slight air of stature and didn't say another word for even the cleverest of comebacks would've received no praise nor granted him an end to the argument.

"Now this is the way to make conversation– " Alfred began, turning to face Black England who raised in eyebrow accompanied by a smirk. "How's life, honestly?" Arthur facepalmed again.

"Life's… a'right." Came the response with a hint of hesitation.

"But how is it, _really_?" Alfred asked. Black England looked upon Alfred quizzically as if suspecting him of a pun. He stood up and hobbled over to a rocking chair, and taking a mug of something or other from the table he'd previously sat upon, he replied with a hoarse grumbling and a noisy swig of the drink.

"Y'first." He said, a blush dusting his features as he sunk lower into his seat sheepishly, his dark hair having become even scruffier. Alfred looked between the two men seated on either side of him. They were so alike in their appearances, it made him blush in turn, the thought of having two opposite sides of Arthur in his life was strangely wonderful sounding.

"Um… uh…"

"W-Well, enough o' yer ivverin' an' overin'. Get on wi'it!" Black England stammered. The ambiance about the room was like that of a group of females partaking in a game of truth or dare. Arthur leered.

"Alright!" Alfred shouted cheerily. "Well, let's see… I could go on and continue that story I was telling earlier… You know the one about Arthur losing his keys!" Arthur hit him upside the head.

"D-Don't even think of it!" He seethed. Alfred laughed.

"Already did, Iggy!" Came the mocking reply. Black England sat up suddenly, swallowing a mouthful of drink before continuing.

"Well, jis' while we on aboot this', are y'two…yah know–"

"Oh bloody hell! No, we are not, n-not t-toge– w-well, you know what I'm speaking about!" Arthur replied in a frenzy.

"Thot so?"

"Yes it is so." Came Arthur's voice and Alfred, reading the atmosphere for once, began to realize that he had not a say in the matter whatsoever as this wasn't quite about Alfred really, but more so a question of whom was to be laughed it, disguised as an exchange of retorts. He watched the two Arthurs swing insults at each other back and forth and around, the argument suddenly turning from Alfred's relationship with the first Arthur to working conditions to pollution to even some mention of the terrible weather being somebody's fault, all the while, their manner of speaking, their approach to quarreling with the other were so vastly unalike that the entertainment was currently running at a high point. Though slightly worried, Alfred was mostly enjoying himself as at least neither man seemed apt to get at the other with a kick in the face, but rather preferred to make dramatic comments in place of that. Or at least he assumed.

"I ought'a give yah a right lompin' for saying' sooch!" Black England shouted in response to what Arthur considered a deserving insult. Arthur crossed his arms as if he thought the suggestion were entirely childish and thoughtless which he very well did, inducing him to stand virtually frozen in shock when his darker counterpart grabbed at a handful of his shirt and pulled him uncomfortably close. "'nd I bai lyin'." That was when Alfred pulled them apart, being the strong of the three.

"Hey, now, couldn't you two go back to arguing with your little comebacks and all?" He turned to Arthur, eyeing him up and down before shrugging. "And well, Artie, over here's got a frail body. Beating him up wouldn't be fair." Arthur punched Alfred weakly in the chest.

"I am certainly not frail!" He protested. "And I could take on the stinking working class any day." Black England chuckled at this.

"N'need t'show off n'front o' yah boyfriend." And as the world naturally enjoyed being ironic, a comment that was meant to oppose the fight, very much settled the whole affair. Arthur promptly sent a punch to that sneering face and received a laugh in return. "A'right. Gettin' yah honds dirty then? We'll see 'ow much y'cn'hondle!" A choking sound resonated as a foot struck Arthur's stomach and he might've fallen sprawled upon the floor if his back hadn't met the wall. Then there was a punch to his face, he could feel the blood at his lips. A kick to the knees and he could feel himself nearly at the floor before he grabbed at the hair of Black England's head and jerked him around, slamming him against the wall without difficulty. He could feel his blood boiling, his heart hammering at the prospect of fighting for pride and honor with his fists again, like back in his pirates days, days of cocked hats, of celebrated scars and shiny weapons. He shook his head slightly, at sensing the nostalgia pulling the corners of mouth downwards and reminding him of his old age.

"Artie, you didn't kill him did you?!" Alfred exclaimed rushing to the collapsed of the two. "He's pretty drunk." He added at the smell of Black England's breath.

"I certainly don't care what at all happens to the likes of him." Arthur said resentfully though with absentmindedness, and he yanked on the coat that he'd abandoned upon his arrival, turning in the direction of the door.

"But, we can't just leave him lying here! What happened to being a gentleman, huh?"

"Alfred, I'm afraid I'm much too exhausted at the moment to hold up such conduct. We're going home, now, so come along!" He ordered.

"No, wait! Let's just first get him into a chair before we leave." Alfred pleaded and with a sigh of aggravation, Arthur rambled over to the pathetically heaped form and aided Alfred in dumping him into the chair which the former had sat upon before.

"There. We're going." Arthur said, stretching his fingers; he couldn't seem to escape that thrill in his hands from the fight.

"Well, I think we should wait till he wakes up."

"We're. leaving." Arthur replied sharply. "Now."

"No. You can't tell me what to do. You always did it when I was young, but you can't do it anymore, so I'm staying here!" Alfred said. He was upholding justice and honor damnit! Arthur on the other hand decided he ought to just throw caution to the wind for once and make it clear that being the location of Alfred's holiday, he was the one to make the rules. He put his hands on his hips and thought for a moment more before he shrugged to himself and sent an upward punch to the middle Alfred's jawline, knocking him out. He promptly dragged him out the door by the back of his collar. And so went their first encounter with the industrial side of Arthur's country.

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*Mexican-American War mention ;)

Um, well, I hope this wasn't so terrible that you– well I can't think of a clever analogy right now, so I hope my hope will do at the moment! Aww gosh- I had fun writing this. C:

I don't mean to say people living in the Black Country are all of the working class! I imagined the character to be a poor blacksmith, so I didn't mean anything offensive by it, I promise.

As you can see, the Black Country accent sucked (it also made me laugh because I was reminded of Sweden) even though I tried very hard with it and went to our downtown to talk to the English lady at the British grocery store when I could. Ugh… I give up on life. But, anyway! I'm trying to decide upon a good fitting human name for this Black England character because calling him "Black England" is starting to sound really weird… So! if you like, go ahead and suggest something in the reviews! I had been considering Tom or Max (those are the names of my sister's cats, I won't lie) Do tell me what you think about the name, okay, and review the story, too?

I named Arthur's friend Ada as a tribute to my dear little 2nd cousin whom I have never met in the whole of my life, but always wished to. This is in no way saying that she'll end up marrying a homophobic pub owner, m'kay?! But I did try to fashion the woman's mannerisms as I have imagined Ada's to be. As a tribute to her little sister, there will soon be a Mei!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING ALL THE WAY DOWN HERE WOW


	2. Getting Home Then Getting Up

Thank you very much for the review and all of the rest of you for favoriting and story-alert...ing. :)

This was written halfheartedly and the humor died, I'm sorry. I've been scarily busy arranging a cross-country trip /shudder/. Okay here it is: Chapter 2, I hope it will still entertain you to some extent!

**Same Disclaimers and warnings apply +slow plot progression. fail. okay.  
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Arthur knew that they had escaped the dreariness of the Black Country at the point in which bright white stars and the deep blackness of the night sky above them had become clearer of grayish clouds, when the ambiance of the place had grown more silent and whispery, lights the color of hard toffee, and stately homes lining the streets, their clean and familiar, yet more or less unfriendly demeanor penetrating his awareness from the monotonous heaving of Alfred's limp body through the dimming streets of England. Alfred had needless to say woken up an hour and a few such minutes after his being knocked out, but promptly he'd fallen asleep again in the early evening and refused to move a limb until he'd properly revived himself which, considering the jet lag, wouldn't be for a time one might regard very appropriate. There was the usual amount of quarreling and Arthur, commonly being the adult figure in the situation, came to be forced to proceed by however he could adapt to the situation in which Alfred refused to do anything besides what _he_ cared to do. The conclusion resulted in the sore occasion of Arthur hoisting Alfred upon his back and trudging along by the light of the street lamps. He could've sworn Alfred had woken up sometime amongst the unruly laughter directed towards them from the prostitutes scattered amongst the vicinity of Covent Garden, parts of their skirts tucked up to declare their implications of loitering about as they did, but upon dropping Alfred from his back to determine if it was so, there was only the smallest hint of a snicker at the corner of his mouth to verify any such presumptions. Arthur had grown too tired himself to begin another argument, so weakly heaving Alfred upon his back again, those long arms hanging over his shoulders uncomfortably, he began to think aloud to himself about a great many things, some quite ordinary such as that he ought to resolve this ridiculous inflation of woman 'working the streets', as it were, that more money and resources were needed for industrialization of England, and that he ought to take control of such and such place for he was surely obligated to uphold the education and civilizing of less fortunate primitives. He just as well managed to make a rather self-applauding reflection relaying his destiny to rule the world sound exhausted and of such negative connotation would might've easily missed the spoken words. Alfred practically fell to the ground of his _own_ accord by way of the laughter that was shaking him all over.

"You sodding git! You have been awake this entire time, haven't you?!" Arthur yelled, looking down at the foolish American. The giggling faded away at the presence of Arthur's (what Alfred thought to be) beautiful scowl in which Alfred smiled in return to and offered commentary completely off the subject of Arthur's questioning, preferring to return to his basis for amusement.

"You surely do think high of yourself, with you're fancy British Empire, enlightening the world and all of that, huh?" He said, preparing to place a hand across his mouth in hopes of impeding the laughter from escaping again.

"Hmph. Expansion of British control benefits everyone, of course." He stated. He gave Alfred an accusatory glare before stretching his tightly crossed arms. "Now get off your arse. You are to _run_ back to my house to make up for all of the laziness you've spent lounging on top of _me. _I-I mean, on my back, er, on top of– o-on– ugh! J-just go, you bloody idiot!" Alfred suggesting quite happily that he would carry Arthur the rest of the way in replace of any running, but was granted an instantaneous rejection accompanied by a sour furrowing of those menacingly bushy eyebrows. Such was enough to induce anyone to run as far away and as fast as they might be allowed.

When the two finally arrived at the house, Arthur tiredly retrieved those infamous keys from his back pocket and entered with a sigh of relief. Once through the main hallway and into a small study, they found a few lamps to be still lit and a housemaid dusting a side table crowded with what seemed to be such an amount of things it should be impossible to ever thoroughly dust, greeted them warmly, with a tired smile. Arthur approached her with an impassive greeting and patted her on the head.

"Good evening, Mei." He spoke. She adjusted the loose bun at the back of her head, confusedly and returned to her futile effort of dusting, whilst stealing glances at the two men as they crossed the room to a sitting area. Arthur fell into one of the fancily upholstered chairs and stared at the ceiling as Alfred picked up various trinkets off of a table near the right wall and examined them. Arthur, practically dreaming already in the armchair, couldn't manage even a small scolding and decided to himself very sternly that Alfred wouldn't dare break a thing while he drifted off to sleep for a few moments.

"O-Oh no, be careful with those!" Came Mei's voice suddenly. Arthur's eyes bolted open and he whipped his head around at the commotion.

"I haven't broken anything!" Alfred called over to him assuredly. Mei smiled calmly, seeming not to have been genuinely worried about the fate of the anonymous objects she'd been referring to. "You certainly have a lot of fancy useless stuff, though, don't you?"

"Conspicuous consumption." Mei whispered boldly, giggling, evidently overjoyed to be in the company of someone much less stiff and continually stern as Arthur was. Arthur rolled his eyes at their tiresome banter.

"You might do well to comprehend the importance of fine things, Alfred." He deadpanned. "And Mei, won't you please retire to your sleeping quarters seeing as your attempt to clean this room is futile." He reached his hand behind him, brushing some of the scattered dust particles from the table, his fingertips revealing a trail of clean wood to accentuate his point. He turned away, leaving his expression to his company's imaginations.

"Oh, uh, y-yes. Sir." She said, her smile still remaining as she exited the room, returning Alfred's cheery wave. She couldn't help but grin wildly at Arthur's uneasily disguised good spirits that day. The loss of the keys was one thing, but the pat on the head upon his arrival was another, indicating he was in such a regrettably good mood that he could barely contain his own hand movements. As soon as she saw the way in which Arthur brushed past Alfred into the room with an anxious blush and a fairly discourteous tossing of his coat upon the back of the sofa she was certain that the younger boy could be none other than the object of his strangely affectionate yet even more so than usually chagrined behavior. She rung out her apron excitedly as she dashed through the house to share the news with the rest of the small staff. The clattering footsteps of a worn pair of shoes and of feet upon hard wood floors, echoed through the house as Arthur tried to decide over how he might place himself most commendably in the chair for no other reason than that he couldn't fall back asleep again. He tilted slightly and hung his arm over the headrest; he set both arms firmly across the armrests as they probably were intended to sit; he tried resting his hands across his lap with his elbows at his side, and then there was only a bit more discreet arranging of limbs and posture before Alfred returned, falling into a chair beside him, contemplating the wallpaper or some other thing decorating the space before him. Arthur had luckily become too tired to notice much of the awkwardness and sat in a position that denoted such.

"Sooo…" Alfred began. "We–" But he was cut short as Arthur rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and sat up from his chair with better purpose, suddenly remembering his manners, however lessened they were around Alfred, and hurriedly he led them down the previous hall to a nicely furnished guest bedroom. Alfred set one of his suitcases upon the small bed with a loud creak and Arthur set the other smaller packages on the table near the curtained window. Mei momentarily stepped inside to light the lamp upon the nightstand and place an armful of fresh sheets on a table by the back wall before leaving them alone again in the white softness of the room. The light was a gradient of warm deluded colors and barely reached it's rays across the bed before it faded into the cold moonlight from the window. Alfred stared awkwardly at Arthur who refused to return the gesture and instead buried his eyes in the sight of the suitcase, a battered brown leather, buckles and silver clasps affixing it closed, deep stitching around the edges, and a bulging pocket in the front. It looked to be heavy, hollowing out a pool of space around it atop the wrinkled bed sheets. There was just one sticker slapped on in the left corner, a faded flag of red and white stripes, a blue square housing 50 five-pointed stars. And now that he'd looked every bit of it over he could only utter some few words and exit to his own bedroom.

"I'll have Mei bring you some… coffee, I suppose that's what you like. G-Good night. Sleep well." He spoke. Alfred didn't seem apt to respond so Arthur managed to find reason for looking at him questioningly. Unexpectedly gentle and unperturbed, Alfred clasped Arthur's chin, tilted his head to the side slowly and placed a kiss to his cheek.

"Okay, good night." He replied. Arthur fisted the hem of his shirt disconcertingly before nodding slightly and rushing from the room. A few of the housemaids erupted in whispering response from their perch at the top of the stair case, barely succeeding in having gotten an acceptable view of the events. Both Arthur and Alfred's thoughts seemed for once to be in sync at which they shared from their respective locations in the house, the quiet exclamation of, "What the hell was that all about?"

Morning arrived at Arthur's house promptly, much to Alfred's persistent complaints. It was 5:30 in the morning, a little over an hour since they'd gotten back, the temperature of the house indisputably akin to that of an iceberg, the sun not yet even arisen by a fraction as Arthur sat down upon a delicately shaped dark wooden chair in the dining room, not a single yawn escaping his lips as he leafed through a thick stack of papers, steam rising into a spiraling ribbon above a cup of tea placed close to the right of his arm. He'd resolved to dismiss the incident of the night before and much in accordance with this, had sent _Mei_ to awaken Alfred, being too embarrassed himself to do so as he might have otherwise. He'd drained what remained of his third cup of tea by the time Alfred joined him at a matching chair on the opposite end of a table that seemed much too small for a house of which only one man was living in. They adjusted themselves sheepishly before Alfred questioned on the subject of what Arthur was doing, reading over such an amount of papers at such an obscure time of day. Though the response was, at first, a jape of belittlement in regards to Alfred's lack of understanding about adult concerns, he managed a more serious reply in succession.

"I'm going over the accounts; expenses and such. I've got a large… well, group to look over."

"Well, I look over my accounts, too, you know… Usually I save that sort of business for the daylight hours, though." He said pointedly. Arthur sighed, still clutching the paper, feeling his peaceful morning being rapidly intruded on. He dropped it without looking up for a few moments, perhaps to build up a substantial amount of annoyance to last him at least half of the conversation, not that it was very difficult to muster up.

"Is that so." He stated, uninterested. "On the contrary I don't believe you've been checking them very appropriately."

"Pffft. Arthur, it's 6 in the morning and this is our conversation? My way of checking my bills and all that's fine as far as I'm concerned… We should be out having some fun right now, I mean if there's any fun one can have at 6 in the morning. It's your job as the host, isn't it, to make certain I enjoy myself, right? Let's go!" Arthur prepared to debate about that proclamation, when he was suddenly grabbed and thrown out the door, practically falling down the steps into the bustling street, dappled with carriages and crowded with bicyclists and young men racing to work and universities across town. The strange and lively atmosphere of the early morning buzz only more so encouraged Alfred's excitability.

"Alfred, we are not doing this right now! I have much too many things to be tended to this morning! There is an epidemic of cholera transpiring as we spe–" But his violently expressed injections were silence unnaturally fast by a hand that pressed his mouth shut. Alfred smiled hopefully, his bright eyes of such infuriating sincerity and anticipation that Arthur could only concede however much in frustration.

"Fffn."

"Oh what was that?" Alfred laughed, his hand muffling Arthur's reply. Arthur glared at him warningly before wrenching Alfred's hand from across his mouth in one such swift movement their arms practically felt whiplash.

"I will not repeat myself, Alfred." He remarked bitterly. "_Behavior. _Or we're going back inside to look at numbers, understand?" Alfred clutched his head in exaggerated pain whilst chuckling to himself.

"Oh, look at that, it's an American. What might he be doing to his head, do you suppose?" Arthur heard a woman conversing with her footman as they walked down the road unassumingly.

"I'm not sure, Mrs. The yanks just act this way, I presume."

"Poor dears never receive a proper education." The stout, prejudice woman replied. Arthur, having been the one to have educated Alfred back when, felt so much embarrassment on account of the unintentional insult that he demanded to no one in particular where the hell he went wrong. He hurriedly regained his composure and reminded himself desperately that Alfred had grown up alone for some time in his younger years and, well, to be blunt, Arthur hadn't been around quite so much, so, really, he wasn't the one to blame for Alfred's less than sophisticated ways, now was he? He instantly regretting the words he'd chosen to console himself with, though, as the guilt of neglect began to swell and stab at his throat. He rubbed his neck in annoyance as Alfred took his unoccupied hand and shook it playfully.

"Come ooooonnnn. You're always acting so fussy and cranky and dull. And it's times like these where you do that thing where you cross your arms or rub your face or something and stare at me angrily for almost a whole ten minutes, I'd say, before you hit me or something! I mean that's if you don't start yelling at me first!" He whined. Arthur yanked his hand away (admittedly it was a half-hearted act) and focused most of his energy on proving Alfred's statement false by keeping his arms at his sides and avoiding all other specified doings. "See, now you're doing that other thing you do where you ignore me like I'm not worth your time. Ugh, Arthur, can't we just have a fun visit together without you getting your panties in a twist over something?"

"M-me?!" He exclaimed. "You believe _me_ to be the one sabotaging this bloody foolish idea of a visit?!"

"Yes because you are! And this isn't a foolish visit otherwise you wouldn't've allowed it to happen." Alfred replied with disappointment and Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"…I've overlooked many a foolish thing in my time." Came the scathing reply. Suddenly the background noise ceased to exist and it was only the two of them in the silence of their thoughts. Alfred considered trying to apologize, but he really wasn't the one in the wrong and Arthur shouldn't start getting used to the idea of never being the one to apologize. Arthur thought the same, only in his account, Alfred was the one in the wrong, and in the end, this only led to nothing of progression as both stubbornly awaited the other's apology. There suddenly came a heavy pat to both of their shoulders. They turned to look into the filthy face of Black England, his soot swathed hands leaving a slight patch of dirt upon the shoulders of their coats.

"'Ey now, why doon'tcha jis' kiss 'n maike up, 'uh?" He laughed huskily. Arthur crossed his arms and prepared to retort a rude and ungentlemanly comeback when he was very suddenly bashed in the face unexpectedly.

"'S for los' night." Black England explained. He dodged a return punch easily as it wasn't too much to expect from Arthur, persistently violent replies whether physically or emotionally damaging.

"What are you doing over here?" Alfred wondered, receiving a shrug in a reply and a rather lengthy story consisting of a few horseshoes, a tea party emergency and a hasty errand boy with a broken leg.

He pulled a handful of horseshoes from a leather satchel loosely suspended around his body, bringing them out to shine in the rising sun light. Then, gesturing with the same hand to a house down the road distinguished by it's large bay windows, he winked in farewell before he was carelessly on his way again. Neither understood that the man's interruption was a miracle, as both were very certain the other was to apologize at any moment. And as miracles go, the spoken apology was ignored and instead a truce was decided upon in silence. Arthur glanced at Alfred apologetically and frankly having had dealt with Arthur's personality for much longer than most, Alfred needn't nothing else to forgive him. He grinned sheepishly and then casually intertwined their fingers as they advanced down the street in which Arthur snatched his hand away and began a futile and unacknowledged argument. _Perfect beginning to a day_, Alfred thought to himself, simultaneously sarcastic and in earnest at once. Arthur sighed. "Alright, then, Alfred. And what in god's name did you have in mind for this 'day of leisure' or whatever this is?" Alfred put a finger to his chin in consideration.

"Well, I don't know… fun? What do you usually do for fun around here? I mean if you ever have fun, that is…" He said bemusedly.

"I-I do too have fun!" Alfred protested flustered. He contemplated a pebble by his feet before continuing sternly. "You might be interested to know that I engage in quite a good amount of frivolity." Alfred muffled a horrendous laugh.

"F-Frivolity?" There was barely enough room for the words to emerge through all of the laughter.

"WHAT is it now?" Arthur demanded. Alfred sucked in a breath to calm himself.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Just go on with what you were saying, but just don't say frivolity again." He chuckled. Arthur looked at him, a mixture of puzzlement and irritability plain in the twitchiness of those caterpillars upon his forehead and eyes suddenly squinted in vexation.

"Never mind. You've lost the privilege of being told." He said decidedly and continued with a substitute for the previous notions he'd considered. "We'll take the train to the seaside. It's not an unpleasant day to do so."

"Really?! Oh, well then let's go now! Hey, this _is_ fun and we haven't even arrived, so it can only get better, I'd say!" Yes, okay, it wasn't raining, that's true, not too unpleasant, but the sky was still white with promise and the wind was considerably vicious, yet Alfred would take anything he could get.

"You say a lot of things, Alfred." Arthur scoffed, but he smiled to himself a little when Alfred's head was turned. _Well, at least while his head's turned, I won't have to see his foolish, optimistic face. _

And we can imagine they skipped happily to the station._  
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Ah, that's so nice of you to read all the way down to here. :) Review??!?!??!?!?

Black Iggy only appeared briefly at the end, I know. orz


	3. I couldn't think of a good chapter name

Thank you for your reviews, there were just a few, so I think I replied to each one! And thank you for your many story alerts and favorites, they are very much appreciated. :) Here is Chapter 3. I'm sorry if any of you were getting tired waiting for this, I've been so busy as everyone is these days, but that's no excuse. I'm about to spoil the deal even further by noting that I didn't put as much effort into writing this because I only forced myself to get to it bit by bit over the past weeks. D: I'm very sorry sorry sorry. But I'd like to say to everyone who's had anything to do with supporting this stupid little story (people reading it, favoriting, story-alerting, reviewing..) I completely adore you. :)

Same warnings/disclaimers apply.

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Well, the beach might not have been what Alfred was accustomed to, what with the air being something akin to 45ºF or less. The early morning was probably half to blame, but it didn't seem as if it might get any much warmer later on in the day. Another thing to add was that the monotonous sounds of the ocean waves crashing combined with the lack of any other discernible sounds or visible people nearby were beginning to peck at his nerves. He felt his mind being clouded with… oh no– introspection.

Their journey to the seaside had started off more or less normally: sitting indifferently at either side of one of the benches on the tramway, watching shapes blur into inky grey clouds beyond the glass of the window. A snarly old woman sat snoring opposite from Arthur and occasionally they glanced at her as she whispered in her slumber quite urgently about a matter regarding her dog's education. There was only one other man sitting quietly in the very back seat besides themselves and the coachman that was wearing much too tall a hat. The monstrous horses that pulled the awkward quintet of people clambered on lazily, horseshoes striking the blacktop loudly in disorganized melody. The roads were relatively quiet excepting the silent drum of faraway conversation in which one could catch only the intonation of the speaker's words–

"A'right! You two!" Came a disturbing shout from the front of the horsecar. The coachman pointed to the door as they came to a sudden stop. "Southend pier, right? We're here." Arthur glanced at the old woman for a moment as if feeling slightly regretful about leaving her, but he promptly went for the door at the coachman's explanation of her being "sort o' a fixture here". Alfred left a few coins to the woman before leaving behind Arthur, what she could do with some American change he hadn't any idea, but the point was he was acting as generous heroes do, so nothing else needed considering. She would probably find them upon awakening and think, "Gosh, what a good man!"

The beginning of the introspection had transpired like so: review of this morning's exciting and unbelievable adventure on the horsecar where Alfred performed the charitable deeds he always did among some other side thoughts. And then as the side thoughts proceeded to take control he found he was obliged to break them up with loud exclamations.

"Wow, it's cold! I'm freezing! Aren't you freezing!" He shouted over the sounds of the sea. "Yeah, it's cold… isn't it?" Arthur jumped a little at the sound, his shoulders tensing up slightly as he began to walk faster down the length of the longest pier in Europe. Although seeing the sea had been his own suggestion, Alfred noted Arthur was acting more on the contrary, his strides so hasty that the 'leisurely' excursion was slowly turning into serious time consuming business of some sort. Alfred slowed to his own pace again as Arthur refused to answer his previous question, however rhetorical it might've been, and looped his thumbs around his suspenders, chewing his lip. The wind slapped pieces of blonde hair against his forehead harshly and the cold slapped his face red, as he walked on behind Arthur, they were the only ones at the pier that morning. As Alfred caught up to his more avoiding counterpart, he grabbed his upper arm, bringing him to a shaky halt. Arthur shook him off with an annoyed expression.

"Just slow down, Artie." He said.

"Well, perhaps you ought to quicken your indolent pace." Arthur snapped quietly, he reached up to brush a few strands of hair from his eyes, eyes that were currently examining the damp wood boards that they stood upon.

"Whatever you're thinking about… just stop thinking about it, alright?" Alfred replied seriously, but then he laughed a little to himself. "It's making you more cranky than usual." Arthur understood that however he replied, Alfred was in a state where he'd see it as only further testament to his crankiness, so he crossed his arms and dwelled in silent irritation as they hobbled onwards together, wood boards creaking, waves crashing, gulls chattering to make up for the deficiency of conversation, perhaps. Alfred glanced at Arthur briefly, recalling why he'd resolved to come to visit him anyway. He recalled unearthing old things that gave him such a feeling of uneasiness that he couldn't sit still with it any longer. Arthur's incessant possessiveness was maybe due to their sour relationship, if they were getting along better perhaps he could accept Alfred's independence more, because the situation would feel less hostile and competitive, yes, but Alfred was beginning to wonder if he'd jumped too fast at the notion, for things didn't seem to be moving in such a direction. It was slightly disappointing, seeing as he put so much thought into it, but then Arthur was always ruining his plans, anyway. "Arthur?" Arthur looked up, almost surprised at the usage of his name, in place of an embarrassing pet name.

"What?"

"Why do you always have to be like this? I'm really honestly wondering why it is you're so angry and life-eating!" He said angrily, crossing his arms. "I went out of my way to come here, ignoring what everyone said that I should keep watch of my nation and people, just to see you, Arthur! All to try to patch things up between us, if even only a little!" Arthur's face colored red.

"W-Well… And did you ever consider that I might not have forgiven you? That I had no intention of doing so whatsoever? That after 1812, and after I helped you with your foolish deflation in the 1830s, after I was forced to give up that little piece of you so recently even this year, that I might not want to see your idiotic face ever again? Your reasoning is always much too idealistic… always so mortifyingly selfish!"

"My idiotic face? Mortifyingly selfish! See, this is the thing you're always doing! Insulting everything that I do, claiming you want nothing to do with me even though you're always getting involved whether it's some twisted form of protection or another argument about something stupid like copyright on books!"

"Well someone has to attempt order in that maddening excuse for a nation what with all of the completely crude and unsanitary conditions! Animals, Alfred, are running through the streets of New York City! Another thing– the tobacco usage is sickening, the lynchings, the slave auctions, the gambling that's gotten way out of hand, I could literally go on until my very death!"

"No one has to be attempting order, Arthur! How I take care of things is none of your business! I'm not your little brother anymore, and you own no part of me! Except Vancouver Island, that is." He added sheepishly. "Why are you always doing this, Arthur! Why can't you leave me alone if you hate me so much! Why couldn't we get along instead? And you gamble all the time, you know! I mean–"

"It's because I can't tolerate you at all, you git! That is why we cannot get along whatsoever." Arthur answered the latter question to avoid the former ones, but Alfred wasn't about to allow it.

"The other question, too." He persisted, edging closer, attempting intimidation as his height shadowed Arthur.

"Which do you mean? You're going to have use full sentences."

"WHY are you so possessive of me; always attempting to control everything that I'm doing?" Arthur clutched at his upper arms, shivering in the ocean wind.

"I… I don't know!" He lied.

"Oh, will you two children just settle down?" Someone said. The old woman from the horse car passed them as she walked down the pier, clutching at her large brown coat.

"Uh, are you faring alright in this weather by yourself, M'am?" Alfred asked, wondering if she'd been listening to them bickering for the last hour. Actually, where had she even come from for that matter, she was still in the tram when they'd left.

"I won't be farin' any good until you two quit yellin'!" She screeched and she shambled on down the pier again. Well, so much for being grateful for the coins. Alfred and Arthur didn't say a word, though they at least made eye contact as they stared at one another awkwardly. Arthur coughed.

"Ahem… yes, well, let's not continue this childish quarrel, then." He spoke.

"Yes, we might as well stop bothering the old woman, I guess. We'll continue the quarrel when we return to your house." Alfred replied definitively. He rested his hands in the pockets of his trousers, and noticed the sun had begun to shine a little brighter, ironically. Arthur pinched his face.

"I think not." He proceeded to walk back to the main road when Alfred ran up infront of him again.

"Well what _do_ you think?"

"I think there ought not to be anymore conversations for today."

"What? I'll talk to you whenever I like!" He pouted.

"Alfred, that old woman can likely hear you yelling from all the way at the end of the pier! And did Mei bring you some water this morning to wash yourself with? Never mind that, you're taking a bath either way, you smell rancid." Alfred crossed his arms, it was one thing when Arthur was insulting him, but it was an entirely different manner when he fell back into babying him and forcing him to bathe. He'd done too much to prove he was a grown up to let Arthur control his affairs again. If he wanted to take a bath, yes, maybe he would, but he sure as hell wasn't going to do it because Arthur forced it upon him!

"Well, where are we going? Aren't we taking the horsecar back to your hou–"

"No. The tram'll have it's hands full by the time it returns. I have a small house a few blocks from here, and I think I'd rather like to retire there until the rush calms down in the evening." He sighed. Alfred didn't say anything, he just followed behind, unsure about how to arrange his facial expression… he wasn't sure if he was angry, or disappointed or _what_ anymore when he actually thought about it. He didn't really think about it to often, he realized. Arthur was always just starting arguments between them about something being not up to his standards, foolish, or whatever else, and naturally he had to reply to that in a similar manner. If he thought about it seriously, though, he realized he was honestly more angry about the _volatility_ of Arthur's behavior, how Arthur had been so fond of him up until the Revolution, and then suddenly he hated him, not just for the Revolution, or for things he was disgusted by, but also for some small things he used to be fond of him for. Arthur was more of a downer than Alfred thought if he insisted on hating all these things for the most… stupid reasons! Alfred had even come all of the way to see Arthur face-to-face, maybe as people instead of as nations for once. Sometimes he felt like there were small feelings he had that were different from his peoples' and he wondered if maybe Arthur ever had those, too; if he ever–

"Alright… we're here." Alfred hadn't even realized they'd been walking.

"Wait– Where?"

"My Essex house, Alfred." Was the exhausted reply.

"Oh, right." He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Wait! Why had he answered so cheerfully? He was still angry! Arthur successfully retrieved a key from under a bush beside the door and they proceeded into the house, Alfred bumping his head on the doorframe. The doors in England were always so short! With a hand at his forehead, he entered the dim hallway quietly, Arthur leading him into a sitting room. This house didn't seem to have any maids or other staff, it was also much more humbly decorated. He decided it must've been because Arthur usually stayed at the resorts rather than this extra house when he visited here. Arthur gently lifted the sheets that had been draped across the few pieces of furniture in the room before sitting himself wearily. Alfred sat across from him in a smaller chair and rested his feet on the coffee table casually as Arthur didn't seem about to brandish him for it. In fact, Arthur didn't seem to even notice Alfred was there, he just sat dully, his elbow on the arm rest, and his head perched on his hand as he gazed out the window.

"Arthur… Arthur! Arthur. Arthur. Hey!" Alfred said, waving his hand across Arthur's face. He swatted it away.

"What. Is. It?" He replied angrily, his eyes slitted, hopefully from the sunlight.

"Um, uh, H-How– Are…Are you… alright?" Alfred asked, lowering his voice slightly. Arthur shrugged.

"I-I'm fine, I don't know what you mean, if you mean to imply that I look upset or something, th-then I haven't any idea what you mean." He answered weakly.

"If we hadn't been born to… stand for nations, do you think we could've gotten along?" Alfred wondered.

"…No… I assume it would've been the same." He decided. Alfred stood up from his chair abruptly, to look Arthur in the face more closely the next time that he yelled, but then he decided it probably more politer to stay seated, however much he was used to bombarding others' personal space when he was trying to make a point.

"Well, why do you have to control me for us to get along? You were only ever nice to me when I belonged to you… I don't get how that makes such a difference."

"You are really such a bloody idiot, you know." His voice was scarily calm. "It's how far you were willing to go to be rid of me that I've been insulted by…" Alfred wanted to stand up and say something, but he could only manage the former. Silence. Then a knock at the door, omitting a low, bitter groan from Arthur, as he stood up to answer it. Alfred sauntered over to the small milky window on the far wall. He rubbed a bit of dust away and remarked that it was some unrecognizable kid or a blurry shape that looked like one.

"Ah, it's you, again." Said Arthur to the whoever-it-was at the door, barely masking his surprise with uninterest. Black England, Alfred guessed to himself rather hesitantly. He for some reason played this game out of habit, now, in which he would try to guess whatever was out of his view or his knowledge and then check to see if he was right. Occasionally this would affect his mood for the next few days. He briefly looked around the corner to the doorway and once having spotted Black England, he very enthusiastically clapped in self-congratulation.

"ALRIGHT, I got it right!" Arthur sighed louder than Alfred's exclamation. Black England'd previously been scrawling something on a messily torn slip of paper with an intriguing looking pen. He held a freshly addressed letter between his teeth as he wrote hurriedly. Arthur was more interested in the pen to notice that the letter wet with spit around the corner was addressed to him. He thought he'd seen the new, shiny thing somewhere before… where…? …Oh.

"That's a very nice pen you have." Arthur stated coldly. Black England mumbled a few words with the letter still suspended in his mouth about "'is one' m'n 'n P'ris–". He was unfortunately unable to finish his sentence at his surprise of Arthur brashly yanking the fountain pen from his hand and throwing it a hundred miles into the distance. No… it only landed a few from the street so Arthur briskly walked down the entry way and down to where it lay so he could promptly stomp it into the dust. Black England lost the letter to Alfred's grasp as his jaw descended slightly in shock.

"'ey, maite! Whoot the 'ell did the pen do to _you_?" He yelled almost in seriousness at the loss of the expensive writing device. Arthur walked assuredly back to the duo standing in front of his house and took the letter from Alfred's hands. He grimaced at the damp envelope.

"Must you keep letters between your teeth?" He droned. _You're about as civilized as_ him. Arthur glanced at Alfred as he cleaned his thickly rimmed round lenses with a clean edge of his sleeve. He spat on it and rubbed it dry again.

"Nah, I brought it oot jus' 'cause I thought I'd give it r't to yah… boot th'n I 'ad to write something' down f'st. Ord'rs 'nd st'ff." Arthur gave an indignant sniff at the answer, but nothing more. He gestured for everyone to move into the house so he could retrieve a letter opener. "Ahaha jus' rip it open like a man, Art!" Black England said flippantly.

"Haha, good one, man." Alfred laughed. Arthur had carefully predicted a remark of some kind so he'd saved his change of subject for when the time came around. It had come around quite quickly.

"And might I inquire as you why you are delivering the mail in place of the post?"

"Huh? Eh, 've knowd this man since, uh–" He pointed briefly to the sender's name on the envelope. "Well, since I s'pke to 'em– ten minutes, or somethin', 've knowd 'm fir."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Ah, well, I jus' thought us two could use some time, you kn'w, to g't to know one anothah, maite. So I 'ad to maike 'n 'scuse." He slurred. He slung in arm heavily around Arthur's shoulders. His breath stunk of drunkenness.

"You're drunk." Arthur stated, indifferently walking out from Black England's grasp. Black England fell into Alfred's arms shakily.

"'s angry w'th me' it'd 'e?" He laughed tiredly up at Alfred. Alfred just shrugged.

"…Arthur's angry with everyone and everything." He said apathetically, but after a few moments of silence the two began to laugh heartily. Arthur jealously retrieved the letter opener from a drawer and slammed it to get their attention. He then, very quickly but with greatly evolved delicacy, slit open the envelope in one swipe of the hand. No one noticed this as especially impressive so he snatched the papers out and brought them to eye level.

"Ooh what does it say!" Alfred asked excitedly.

"Hm… uh huh… yes. Oh, that's– oh, of course, that's where he got the pen." The last part was whispered more sharply. He looked to Alfred and Black England who'd fallen asleep on the floor holding to Alfred's legs.

"They're proceeding to search for a new planet. One of Italy's citizens saw it a few times many years ago, but thought it was a star, so he couldn't be credited with it's discovery, really."

"Woah, that's swell, Artie! One of your men is doing this?"

"Yes." He answered through clenched teeth. "And some… Frenchman instigated it." Sigh.

"What planet is it? Does it have a name?" Alfred wondered.

"We don't know. We came to understand there were some irregularities in the orbit of Uranus just a few years ago." He said reluctantly. He fell into a chair. "I'm not very interested right now." Black England had come to lying on the wood floor now with his limbs splayed out carelessly.

"We sh'd all go oot drinkin' s'more." He advised dreamily. "Ugh… I fink I might–" He scrambled to open the door to the front and then tossing his head out the doorway, he loudly threw up in the entryway.

"Gladly." Arthur stated, disregarding the gagging sounds in the background as he stood up and headed for the door. Grabbing a handful of Black England's shirt, he brought him to his feet and handed him a handkerchief before, though strongly disinclined to, offering his arm for support.

"No, no. I want 'is arm." He objected, embracing Alfred's arm with a smile. "'s my f'st American tour'st."

"Fine. We're off." Arthur crossed his arms and stomped that much faster towards the street.

* * *

The planet's Neptune... I don't know the exact month they decided to begin searching... there just needed to be a distraction from the angst that was transpiring. I chose a lame distraction...

WELL THIS IS PROBABLY OBVIOUS. Did anyone get my joke about Arthur at Southend Pier? 8D? (See what I did there? I'm trying to hint at reviewing...even if it's just to say you got my joke.) Review, please? ... AND Thank you for reading. It's been so long, I wouldn't be surprised if you thought this story (and myself included) died. So thanks for believing in this update, I will not update again for a very long time (eheheehhhh ^^"), goodbye!


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